


Surprises of a Veiled World

by Bread_Stars



Series: Married!Sorian [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bread_Stars/pseuds/Bread_Stars
Summary: Solas had been reading a tome on magical theory regarding Lyrium and had planned on submitting his research later that day. It wasn’t his subject of choice but the Inquisitor had requested for it to be done and that duty had fallen to him. He had been hoping to finish it as soon as possible in order to return to research that actually interested him.Unfortunately, with the arrival of Bull and Sera, that was unlikely to be the case now.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Dorian Pavus, Sera/Female Adaar (mentioned)
Series: Married!Sorian [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932445
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, Solas?” Sera asked as she and the Iron Bull sauntered into his rotunda. The elven apostate had been reading a tome on magical theory regarding Lyrium and had planned on submitting his research later that day. It wasn’t his subject of choice but the Inquisitor had requested for it to be done and that duty had fallen to him. He had been hoping to finish it as soon as possible in order to return to research that actually interested him. 

Unfortunately, with the arrival of Bull and Sera, that was unlikely to be the case now.

“Yes?” he sighed, knowing that, with these two, the issue would likely be anything but simple.

“We just came to let you know that if you break Dorian’s heart, you’ll have us to deal with,” Sera continued.

“Yeah, we’ve noticed that you can be a bit... cold with him,” Bull rumbled, “and he deserves to be more than a business transaction.”

Solas flinched at that last comment, no longer able to meet either of their eyes. Is that what they really thought he was doing? He truly cared for Dorian, and to think he might be hurting him was unthinkable. They had been in a relationship for around seven months now and he’d hoped they had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Was the other mage yearning for more than he was offering?

The Iron Bull was a spy and Sera, though loud and obnoxious, was good at reading people’s discomfort. On top of that, they were probably Dorian’s closest friends, not including the Inquisitor. He trusted their judgement of people’s mood, intentions and desires, both individually and together. The fact that they both were confronting him about this suggested that this was a real issue. Perhaps they knew Dorian better than he did. Or worse, perhaps Dorian had actually said something to them about his lack of fulfilment.

“I see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” Solas cleared his throat and absentmindedly shuffled the papers strewn out over his desk. 

“We’re glad you understand,” Bull nodded in approval before leaving with Sera in tow.

— 

Solas spent the next few hours thinking over what he had been told and reflecting on his own behaviour. He knew he was reserved but cold? He only hoped Dorian hadn’t noticed yet, while he still had time to reverse this error on his part.  
He scarcely read another paragraph of his book the entire afternoon as his mind kept wondering away from any theoretical magic which may have captured his attention before. The tome no longer held the answers to the new questions which bombarded his mind. 

Did Dorian deserve better- more- than he could offer? 

He decided to prove Sera and Bull wrong, as he marched decisively towards the tavern where he knew Dorian would be at this point in the day. No doubt he was amusing any who had the luxury of sitting near enough to hear him.

Sure enough, he spotted his lover at one of the far tables in the inn, which was slowly but surely beginning to fill up as evening drew near and the sun began to set over Skyhold. He was sat with Commander Cullen, Varric, Bull, Sera and Blackwall. Good, there was enough of an audience that Dorian could see that Solas was not ashamed of him. 

With that in mind, he zigzagged in and out of tables until he had almost reached the chattering group. He noticed they all had drinks in front of them and, at the last moment, decided he should quickly order something for himself. Maybe that would make him seem more approachable.  
Finally, Solas approached the table, a drink in hand and pulled up a chair to sit next to Dorian.

“Hello, vhenan,” he greeted, with a soft smile, pressing a chaste kiss to Dorian’s cheek. He pulled up a stool especially close to his lover so that there was hardly an inch between them. 

The other man blushed profusely, causing Solas to smirk in amusement. “Amatus, what brings you here?”

“Am I not allowed to simply enjoy my beloved’s company?” he teased, something he’d usually reserve for when they were in private.

“Of course, especially such a magnificent presence as my own,” Dorian returned to his usual charming self, though his cheeks still remained pink and something told the elven apostate that it had nothing to do with the alcohol.

Solas took a sip of his drink, trying not to show his disgust at the awful taste of whatever the bartender had given him. He had tasted countless alcoholic beverages over the course of his long life but the drinks served at the Herald’s Rest were ranked pretty high on the list of worst drinks he’d had.

“Whatever would we do without the beacon of light you offer to the Inquisition?” He replied sarcastically, his tone light so the others recognised he was joking.

“A fine question. Perish from boredom, I think,” Dorian replied.

“Alright, you two! That’s enough of that!” Sera shook her head, her hair getting in her face- well, more so than usual- in the process. “The rest of us don’t want to puke before we’ve had at least five drinks.”

“Well, it’s not like you and Adaar aren’t worse,” Dorian shot back.

This drinking and banter continued for a few more hours and Solas found he actually began to relax and enjoy himself. He almost forgot his worries from earlier that day. Almost. But still it teased at the edge of his mind, unable to let him fully relax, his back muscles remaining tense.

Slowly, their company began to filter out. First to go was Cullen, claiming he had lots of paperwork to do and thus needed a good night’s sleep, then went Blackwall a few minutes later. Next to go was Sera, undoubtedly to meet up with the Inquisitor. Varric stumbled away a half hour after that, having had more than a bit too much to drink. 

It was at that point that Dorian tipped back the last of his drink. “Right, I think I’ll turn in for the night. Coming, Amatus?” 

“Of course,” Solas rose from his chair, catching Dorian’s hand as they stood. He felt his lover tense and wondered if he had done something wrong. However, as he began to let go, Dorian squeezed his hand softly, reassuring him.

“See you two lovebirds tomorrow!” Bull waved them off, turning his chair to face his Chargers, joining in their revelry.

As they reached the rotunda which led to their room, Solas was stopped abruptly by Dorian who was looking into his eyes seriously, as if he were trying to solve the problems of the world. It was clear the matter was private considering he’d waited until now to stop him.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting oddly all night,” Dorian accused.

“Nothing, vhenan,” Solas lied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t try that on me,” Dorian grasped his upper arm, keeping him from escaping, “do you think I am so self-absorbed that I would not notice when my beloved is behaving differently? I know you’re upset about something, Solas. Tell me what it is.”

Solas sighed, relenting. He knew that the Tevinter mage would not give up any time soon and he would eventually have to talk about it. 

“The Iron Bull and Sera visited me earlier today,” he started, pausing to work out how to explain what happened next.

“Oh Maker, what did they say to you?” Dorian filled the pause.

“They informed me that I am ‘cold’ in our relationship and perhaps I am not offering you everything you deserve,” he broke eye contact, “they said I treated our relationship like business. I just... I wanted to prove to them, to you, to myself that they were wrong. It is clear public displays of affection are not my strong suit, but I felt I should at least make some attempt.”

Silence fell over them, only the distant chatter from the main hall offering any distraction from the weighty feeling between them. If it weren’t for the hand on his arm, Solas would have thought Dorian had left.

“Those bastards!” he hissed, much to Solas’ surprise, “How fucking dare they presume to interfere with my relationship? Do they not think I can handle myself? I don’t care that you don’t show physical affection in public! You don’t need to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I like that our touches remain between us rather than for the entire world to watch as if it were some kind of play! And for them to call our relationship businesslike and cold?” he laughed emptily, “They have not idea what they’re talking about. I’m going to have a serious chat with the pair of them about boundaries.”

Solas shifted uncomfortably, not quite sure how to respond to Dorian’s outburst. He supposed he was flattered that the other mage was that defensive of their relationship, but the weight of their suggestions still kept him away from being content.

“So you don’t think I’m cold? You don’t want me to show more affection?” Solas finally asked softly.

“Kaffas, no, Amatus! I fell in love with you the way you are. I am not a child. I don’t need constant reassurance that I am important to you,” Dorian ran his free hand through his hair absentmindedly, “Besides, you show your love in other ways. You tease, you bicker with me, you call me ‘vhenan’. Void, you share your dreams in the Fade with me. You let me in to know who you really are. I could not ask for more, Solas, nor do I want anything more.”

Solas lent forwards to kiss Dorian softly, his hand reached up into the human mage’s hair, tangling the perfectly controlled mess. He felt Dorian’s hand on his back pull him closer. The kiss was chaste as far as kisses go, but the emotion underpinning it meant it was worth a thousand other kisses to Solas.

He pulled away to rest his forehead against Dorian’s, staring straight into his eyes.  
“I love you, Dorian. I want to give you everything you deserve. When they suggested that I was not trying hard enough, I was upset to say the least. Hearing you say what you’ve just said, it means the world to me,” he whispered, “I want you to know I am committed to you, in the long term. No matter what my plans might have been upon waking over a year ago, I cannot give up what I have with you. I woke up in a world which felt empty, emotionless. I did not think that anyone could possibly find peace or happiness here, especially not myself. And yet you have shown me that even Tevinter mages are not all as they seem. You have proven time and time again that this world is worth saving. My world is gone now, but yours still has a chance to live. If you will have me, I would like to share this world and the rest of my life with you.” 

A pause passed in which Solas could hear nothing but their heartbeats and and the sound of breathing.

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking, Solas?” Dorian’s voice was low and rumbled against Solas’ hands which remained in the other man’s hair.

“Dorian Pavus, vhenan, will you marry me?” Solas asked nervously.

“This isn’t because of what Sera and Bull said, is it? Because if it is-“

“It is not,” Solas reassured him, his fingers rubbing circles on Dorian’s temple, “I have been thinking of this for some while. I even have a ring. I know how much you love your jewellery. Do not feel pressured to say yes. I realise it might be a bit soon to ask this of you, but considering all we have been through together, I doubt there are many couples wed who know each other better than we do. Our relationship will not change if you don’t want this, however.”

“Yes,” he whispered, “I do want this. More than anything.” 

Solas grinned and leaned in to kiss his fiancé once again. This kiss was much more passionate as they conveyed their excitement at this new chapter of their lives. Dorian grazed his teeth over Solas’ bottom lip and the latter eagerly parted his lips for his lover, allowing his tongue to work a different kind of magic to the one they both relied on for survival. Solas moved one of his hands from Dorian’s hair to his neck, pulling him ever closer. In turn, he felt the grip on his waist tighten as their bodies pressed together.

A cough interrupted their moment of joy, however, as they were forced apart to face whoever had just cleared their throat. Solas glanced at the doorway to see a very disgruntled looking Cassandra, her arms folded across her chest. She was still in full armour despite it being late into the evening, but, Solas reasoned, it was rare to see her own of uniform. It did not necessarily mean trouble.

“I don’t want to interrupt your little kissing session but I need your report on sealing rifts in the field, Solas,” Cassandra snarked.

Solas nodded, feeling his blush reach the tips of his ears. He stepped past Dorian to pick up the file from his desk. He strode quickly over to the Seeker, offering her the report without a word.

She nodded. “Perhaps next time, find somewhere more private,” she suggested.

“Well forgive me for being excited about my own engagement. Contrary to popular belief, I do not receive many proposals of marriage. I accept even less,” Dorian bit back, his eyebrow raised at the Seeker.

“I... I apologise. I did not know. Congratulations to both of you. I am sorry to have disturbed this happy occasion. It is wonderful that you have found love in such a difficult time,” Cassandra offered them a rare smile, “Thank you for the report, Solas.”

“Thank you. And it is no problem,” Solas replied, his voice warm, and his eyes bright, as he glanced towards Dorian with a smile.

He saw Cassandra nod awkwardly before leaving quickly out of the corner of his eye but all his attention was dedicated to the man before him. How was it that he had managed to find peace, love, contentment in this veiled world which, at first glance, seemed to offer no hope to him? How had he managed to find someone who would love him not only despite his mistakes but because of them? How did he find someone who could love the Dread Wolf, knowing exactly who he was?

“I am the luckiest soul on this plane of existence,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to cup Dorian’s cheek. “I cannot help but worry you are a dream that I have conjured up and that I am not truly awake yet.”

“I assure you I am quite real,” Dorian laughed quietly, “Besides, could you have come up with someone as fabulous and with such good fashion sense all on your lonesome?”

“I admit defeat,” he joined Dorian’s laughter, “You defy all expectations. I could not have fathomed such a contradictory yet hypnotising person as yourself, not without at least some drugs.”

Dorian cackled loudly in response, earning a full grin from Solas who began to chuckle himself, his hand falling from his lover’s cheek to rest upon his shoulder as his muscles relaxed.

“It is not as if I have not been lucky in winning your affection,” Dorian managed to say when he’d finished laughing, “I mean, despite all my beauty, I never expected to wed a god. That defies even my predictions. Mother and Father would be so happy to find out I am betrothed to none other than Fen’Harel.”

“Should your parents ever leave Tevinter, I’ll make sure to be on my most godly behaviour,” Solas smirked.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days passed as a blur of excitement and congratulations from throughout Skyhold. Solas couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised at their reaction, thinking he held little interest in the attention of gossips. He was shocked by the amount of people who offered him their congratulations- people he’d barely spoken to before. Cullen’s soldiers even wished him well, in a rather coordinated effort, making him trust more in the Commander’s training which clearly was teaching them to act in unison. He was mature enough to admit they had startled him more than a little.

However, this excitement was soon broken up by the regular missions involved with saving the world when the Inquisitor requested Dorian’s presence on a trek to the Exalted Plains alongside the Iron Bull, Sera and Adaar herself. Solas found himself disproportionately upset that his love was being ripped away so soon. They had been apart before, he reasoned, and that there was no need for him to be so saddened.

Meanwhile, Dorian was reacting to the same news. While he was disappointed to be away from Solas so soon, his anger with his friends was revived by the knowledge that he’d be forced to spend two weeks on the road with them. He couldn’t help but be enraged by the circumstances under which Solas had proposed, believing he was not committed enough to this relationship physically.

He stormed off immediately to seek them out so he could have a rather harsh word with the pair of them. Bull and Sera were sat together, joking around in Sera’s room above the tavern. It was as if they felt no remorse for their actions, which only served to increase Dorian’s rage.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he yelled as he marched in, glancing between them as they looked up at him in confusion. “How fucking dare you presume to involve yourselves in my relationship? Do you know what you’ve done? Solas thinks he’s not good enough for me, you fools. He is not ‘cold’ or ‘businesslike’! You don’t know him at all! You never bothered to try to befriend him! You,” he gestured at Sera, “think he’s boring and annoying because of his views on elven culture. As if that’s the basis to form relationships on,” he scoffed before turning to Bull, “and you, you took one look at him and decided he wasn’t worth your efforts. You’ve put in the effort with literally everyone else in this Inquisition but Solas? He wasn’t worth your time! How fucking dare you invade my privacy like that?!? He means everything to me and you almost ruined that over something that doesn’t even matter to me!”

Dorian felt hot tears rushing down his face, smudging his kohl, not that he cared at the moment. Right now he couldn’t think of anything but his pure, unadulterated anger. He couldn’t believe his friends had betrayed his trust like this. As if they couldn’t have spoken to him first if they thought there was a problem. They simply had made it their business rather than asking him.

“You two have broken my trust,” he cleared his throat, speaking in a much quieter voice. “Know that I will not be confiding in you any time soon.”

“Wait, but I thought he proposed? That’s good, right?” Sera stood up, squinting at him.

“It doesn’t matter that he proposed. You invaded my privacy and acted on my behalf without so much as speaking to me first. I could have told you that my relationship with Solas is great. I am not a child in need of constant reassurance. I am an adult who can make my own decisions,” he hissed back.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you aren’t exactly the most stable person. We just wanted to make sure he wasn’t taking advantage of you,” Iron Bull claimed.

“Vishante kaffas! He is the most considerate person I know. He respects boundaries, unlike you,” Dorian shook his head, enraged. “And if you are going to accuse me of being unstable then perhaps you should take a good look in the mirror! I do not get others to beat me when I feel angry or upset! I do not drink myself into oblivion every night! I do not have a problem recognising the problems with my homeland.” 

“Watch yourself, Vint! At least I have the self respect not to settle for a stuck-up elf who spends his entire life in the Fade. At least I don’t need to marry someone to fill the void left by a father who used blood magic to change me. At least I am not so weak as to bend over for anyone who gives me so much as a smidgen of affection,” Bull stood up to his full height, clearly hoping to intimidate Dorian.

However, there was a loud clap as Dorian punched Bull with all the force he could muster, blinded by the all consuming rage fuelled by the Qunari’s insults and degradations. He turned on his heel and strode out quickly. He couldn’t stand to be in that room a second longer, couldn’t be insulted to his face like that, couldn’t look on those he used to consider his friends any more. His feet took him to Solas’ rotunda, tears still streaming down his face. He refused to acknowledge any glances or murmurs surrounding him as he marched through the courtyard and the Great Hall. 

Solas looked up, presumably having heard his entrance, and alarm filled his face as he surveyed Dorian. The Tevinter mage ran towards him and fell into his lover’s arms, all energy leaving his body as he began to sob violently. He felt the Elf’s arms surround him immediately, rubbing small circles into his back soothingly. Solas was whispering what he assumed were comforting words in Elvish as he buried his face in the shorter man’s shoulder. 

Dorian had no idea how long they stood like that, how long he cried for, but at some point, Solas guided him to the sofa he kept in his study, his arms remaining wrapped around the human. By this point, Dorian was exhausted, all his energy spent on crying and no more tears left to fall. He felt a gentle finger swipe away the remaining tears, as the elf drew back to look at his face.

“Would you like to talk about what happened?” he asked softly.

Words quickly flew out of Dorian’s mouth, explaining the argument with Sera and Bull, their insults, the fact he punched the Qunari mercenary. He relayed every detail, reliving the situation, without so much as stopping to allow Solas to speak. He spoke of his anger at everything, his frustration with the presumptuous nature of his former friends, his hurt at basically being told he was a whore. 

Once he had finished, there was a long pause before the elven apostate finally spoke. “They do not deserve to be your friends. They could not simply apologise and put aside their mistakes for the sake of your happiness. To say such disrespectful things to your face, to use things you told them in confidence against you in a dispute, they have shown themselves to be cruel. The old Solas would have petrified them for their degradations. They are lucky he no longer exists,” Solas said darkly. 

“I wish you were coming with me on this excursion,” Dorian admitted.

“I know, ma vhenan, I wish I was coming too. Perhaps, I could speak to the Inquisitor about the situation. She may change the party composition,” he offered.

“No, she chose the party for a reason. I cannot let personal matters interfere. Besides, I’m sure I’ll see you in the Fade,” Dorian joked as he began to feel more like himself.

“I will find you, vhenan, however far away you may be,” Solas promised him. 

“Good,” he sighed, leaning his head on Solas’ shoulder as the elf immediately responded by wrapping his arm around him. “This is not how I imagined the days following my engagement. We haven’t even discussed anything about the wedding.”

Solas chuckled softly. “I confess I do not know much about Tevinter marriage traditions, but, in Arlathan, we had weddings in the air with certain flower arrangements and elven passages spoken.”

“I don’t want any custom from Tevinter at our wedding,” Dorian said with certainty. “The only thing I would even consider taking would be the fashion. Perhaps I shall wear the traditional wedding garments whilst marrying a male elf. That would be the biggest middle finger to what they did not let me have.”

“If that is what you want. I’ll wear traditional Arlathan garments, I think,” Solas rubbed his fingers where they were placed on Dorian’s upper arm. “I do not want to get married in a Chantry. That is my one request.”

“No Chantry, that’s fine by me,” Dorian hummed. “Perhaps we could do it in the main hall, but then again, that’s where all the executions get decided so that would be a bit morbid. Outside does sound like a nice idea but where would we do it? In the courtyard with all the training dummies?”

“Perhaps the garden, where the Inquisitor plants all her herbs for potions,” he offered.

Dorian frowned slightly, considering the notion. “That may work. It is a large enough space to cater for a wedding but not so large that we would have to invite more guests to fill the space. Plus the view is lovely in spring.”

“If we are to have a spring wedding then we shall need to start making preparations quickly,” Solas hummed. “It’s already Guardian; we only have two months at most.”

“Then we shall have to get started,” Dorian said decidedly.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Dorian woke early in the morning to leave for the Emerald Graves. His lover was still asleep, sprawled across the Tevinter’s chest. He would miss this whilst away, Dorian thought, tracing circles over Solas’ pale back, but he reminded himself that he had the rest of their lives to look forward to such awakenings.

He quietly slipped out of bed, shifting the sleeping elf carefully and gently so that he would not wake. He quickly dressed and gathered his pack of gear, already packed last night. He spent a moment styling his hair to its usual level of perfection and adorning his fingers with rings. However, he already had one on his left hand. He smiled as he admired the perfect ring his future husband had picked out for him. It was golden with four small emeralds adorning the front, lined up carefully. In the inside of the ring were lines of Elvish:  _ Melanada ar lath ma in elgara banal’ras’la.  _

Dorian smiled as he remembered when asking Solas their meaning. The elf had blushed and repeated the words aloud, first in elvish then in the common tongue. 

_ Forever I love you, in sun and in shadow. _

The meaning brought up a warm feeling inside him as he looked over fondly at his sleeping lover. He leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, one last time before he left for two weeks. Solas stirred at the touch and looked up at him, sleep clouding his eyes.

“You weren’t thinking of leaving without so much as a goodbye, I hope,” he yawned quietly as he shifted to sit up. 

“Of course not,” he whispered back. “I simply didn’t want to wake you when you looked so peaceful. I wanted to leave it as late as possible before dragging you up too.”

“It is no bother, especially since this is the last opportunity for me to see you before you leave for two weeks,” Solas rumbled, leaning up to kiss Dorian softly. The latter cupped his cheek as he returned the kiss, soft and comfortable. “I shall miss you.”

“And I you, amatus,” he replied. “I must go now or else I risk the Inquisitor storming in here to look for me, likely waking half Skyhold in the process. Plus, she would see you in such a state of undress. No, I must protect your modesty and leave now.”

Solas shook his head and laughed softly at his joking. It turned out that Solas laughed frequently in private with him. It was a rare and special occasion and Dorian treasured being the only one who got to see him like that. Solas trusted him enough to let down his guard and relax completely. Since telling him about his true identity, Dorian had noticed that the ancient elven mage had relaxed his defences extraordinarily and was able to be much freer in their time together. He felt blessed by whatever higher powers were out there that he’d been allowed to see this part of his lover.

“I shall await your return, ma vhenan,” Solas spoke as Dorian stepped away after bestowing one final kiss upon his lover. 

“So shall I,” he smiled brightly as he stepped out of the door and finally joined the Inquisitor by the gates, leaving for the Graves.

The journey was awkward as the only person willing to make conversation was the Inquisitor herself. After making several attempts to start a discussion about anything- the weather, the direction of the Inquisition, his wedding (the latter only served to aggravate Bull and Sera further), she finally threw her hands up and muttered something about giving up and not being paid enough to be a babysitter. 

They arrived at their destination in the Emerald Graves- Watcher’s Reach- without incident as Dorian simply refused to talk to anyone but the Inquisitor herself. When they set up camp, she drew him to the side, a stern look on her face that was usually reserved for dealing with uncooperative allies, refusing to support a decision made by the Inquisition for whatever reason. It had not been directed at him for a long while.

“Look, Dorian,” she spoke once they were a respectable distance from camp, “I don’t know what happened between you and the others but both of them are refusing to talk to me about this. Normally, I do not get involved in issues that clearly do not involve me, but this is starting to affect the mission. I either need you to resolve your differences and find common ground or talk to me about what happened so that I can attempt to solve this mess.”

Dorian sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Solas said I should have spoken to you before this mission. Alright then, I’ll tell you what happened. They went to Solas behind my back, insulted our relationship, we fought and ugly insults were thrown. I am not saying I did not say things I do not regret, but I believe I am the one who has been offended the most.” 

“I’ll talk to them,” she promised. “I’m not happy with either of them about this. I would have expected better. I will get them to apologise first but you will also need to do so for whatever insults you threw at them.”

Dorian nodded wearily, knowing in his heart that he would have to forgive them sooner or later. Better now so it did not affect missions any further, he thought to himself. He wasn’t ready to completely trust them again but he knew that further argument would solve nothing. That and the Inquisitor could be intimidating when she wanted something done.

About half an hour later, whilst he was making notes on a magical theory he was developing on the art of spell casting, he felt the others approaching him. He looked up from his notes to see the three of them towering as they stood above him. He got to his feet, trying for leisurely but he feared his muscles were too tense to be convincing to anyone, especially a Ben-Hassrath agent.

“Inquisitor, Iron Bull, Sera,” he greeted cordially, for the Inquisitor’s sake if nothing else.

“Look, we’re sorry, alright? It wasn’t our place to get involved in your relationship. That’s your business. I wouldn’t be all that pleased if you went snooping about with me and Inky’s thing,” Sera offered. 

“Yeah, Dorian. I know I said some things I shouldn’t have, but I was just concerned for you. I should not have suggested that you were settling for Solas. If you decided he’s worth your time, then I need to respect that. I’m sorry for what I said. I’ll make more of an effort with your elf,” Bull added, his tone sincere.

“It’s not like I didn’t retort and insult you,” Dorian swallowed. “I shouldn’t have insulted your culture. It was out of order. I appreciate your apology. It means a lot that you support this engagement. You two are my friends and I don’t have many of those. Truth be told, I was afraid of losing you as a result. Solas means the world to me but I like having you guys around. Sometimes I need a good night at the tavern with my friends.”

The Inquisitor looked pleased with the result of this discussion as she smiled and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Aww and we need you, you big fool. Without the resident Vint, how could we possibly find a new source of entertainment?” Sera grinned widely.

The rest of the trip went much more smoothly, with everyone finally willing to talk to one another. There was the usual banter, the fighting of giants and the rival soldiers from the civil war who were the source of the trouble. It was almost back to normal. It would be almost pleasant if it weren’t for the fact that Dorian found it very difficult to sleep alone. His sleep was restless and he only caught moments here and there of true sleep. That meant he was unable to access the Fade. He wasn’t in one place long enough for Solas to find him so that they could meet.

Dorian sighed as he tossed and turned for the eleventh night in a row, knowing that it was likely that he would sooner be back home in Skyhold than meeting his beloved in the Fade. It was frustrating really, not only because he was tired and irritated but also because he really wanted to chat with Solas and tell him about the resolved conflict. He knew his fiancé would be thinking about this, needlessly as he had reconciled with Bull and Sera, but apparently Dorian wasn’t allowed that luxury.

Finally, he sighed and decided enough was enough. If he was awake, he could at least make himself useful. He took up pencil to paper and began to sketch possible garment designs for the wedding. He spent perhaps three or four hours simply coming up with new ideas and, by the end of the night, he’d narrowed it down from five different ideas to two final options. The first was a very traditional Tevinter style for a groom, full of clean lines, silks and exuding decadence. The second, which he thought he might prefer, was loosely based on the concept of Tevinter weddings but had much more of his own flair. For example, he had chosen to keep to his taste for the extravagant without erring on the side of overindulgence typically associated with his homeland. It was new and innovative and he found himself drawn more and more to it. 

He had decided that he would show both sketches to Josephine and the Inquisitor for opinions. He knew he could trust both of them not to divulge their thoughts to Solas; he wanted it to be a surprise. Just like he had no idea what ‘ancient Arlathan wedding garments’ entailed, he wanted Solas to be equally in the dark about his appearance. It was only fair really, he smiled to himself. 


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, they departed their camp in the Graves, finally heading back to Skyhold. The journey back was three long days of trekking, but, apart from the occasional bandits, the roads were pretty clear. It might have been suspicious if it hadn’t been for the growing reputation of the Inquisition and rumours that they defeated all bandits who stood in their way. That had to be a very effective deterrent, given that this road was commonly used by Inquisition forces for trade as well as travel to Orlesian regions for diplomatic and military missions. Clearly that had given these roads a reputation for safety and lack of tolerance for crime.

The absence of fighting gave Dorian a chance to think on the long ride home. He thought of his relationship so far with Solas, memories rushing to the forefront.

—

_It had been a gruelling day full of battling demons and bandits in the Hinterlands with the cold winter wind biting at their skin. It was nowhere near as bad as in Emprise du Lion, but the prolonged exposure was starting to wear at the entire party, even Cassandra. Spending the entire day shin deep in mud and rain had that effect, it seemed._

_ A Fade rift had appeared around a corner, previously out of view: the first misfortune. A mob of rage, pride and fear demons jumped into view, giving them precious little time to react. Adaar cast static cage in attempt to weaken them faster whilst Cassandra raced forward bashing a rage demon with her shield. The Seeker hit hard and fast, quickly getting through her share of the demons. Dorian himself cast blinding terror, quickly panicking various enemies. He cast a quick glance at Solas, who was casting firestorm. He saw the pride demon extend its electric whip to grasp at the elven apostate and all thoughts went blank. He taunted the demon drawing its attention. His fatigue allowed him to be reckless with his spell casting as he forgot to put up any kind of barrier to protect himself. Instead, he found himself thrown back on the floor, hishead cracked against the rocky cliff. He managed to cast a final fire spell, killing the demon as it was sucked back into the rift.  _

_ He was vaguely aware of the Inquisitor sealing the rift hastily. Suddenly, Solas was by his side, cursing in Elvish. Probably mad about the wasted resources, Dorian had thought at the time. The man was always at him for using more than his share and being purposefully reckless. It wasn’t untrue, but it annoyed Dorian to no end. However, it wasn’t enough to stop that annoying little crush he was developing. He knew he stood no chance since Solas had expressed no interest in men, nor humans.  _

_ That was, until now. He felt Solas’ lips touch his own, almost a ghost of a touch, gone as soon as they were there. Neither Cassandra nor the Inquisitor were looking, both preoccupied with searching the area for more hidden enemies. Neither of them saw it.  _

_ Solas quickly administered a healing potion to his wound, casting a basic healing spell. It wouldn’t do much in the long term, but it would help him remain conscious until they reached a trained healer. He felt Solas’ hand in his hair touching the gash carefully. He hissed when his hand touched a particularly painful point. Solas apologised quickly, promising that he would be alright.  _

_ Although Solas wasn’t particularly muscular, it turned out he was able to carry Dorian comfortably the entirety of the journey to camp. He was aware of what was going on around him at this point but it was hazy, as if in a dream. He remembered that Solas had refused to allow anyone else to carry him, even though Cassandra, as a warrior, was much stronger, and Adaar had a higher muscle content due to her greater size.  _

_ Once they had reached camp, that was where his memory was truly scrambled. He remembered drifting in and out of consciousness as a healer tended to his injuries. Solas remained throughout the process which had to have lasted hours and gone on well into the night. He would have been exhausted, Dorian thought, from the hard day’s trek and constant fighting, but yet he stayed by his side. _

_ Night had fallen when Dorian finally woke up properly, blinking slowly as he felt a wave of exhaustion pass over him. His muscles ached and his head felt uncomfortable. The pain was gone but a dull ache remained as a testament to his injury. _

_ “What were you thinking?” he heard Solas ask quietly. “You put yourself in mortal danger. We could have lost you. I could have lost you.”  _

_ Dorian strained to look over at him. The elf’s expression was unreadable to him at the moment. Curse him for having such a good poker face.  _

_ “I was trying to save your life, you idiot,” he replied. “Without me, you would have been that pride demon’s dinner.”  _

_ “I would have been fine,” Solas snapped. _

_ “Not from where I was standing. Look, I know you’re frustrated that I am taking up valuable resources that belong to the Inquisition, but can this argument wait until I can actually stand? Besides, I saved a much more valuable asset to the organisation. How many mages do you think are out there that know as much as you do about the Fade?” he had sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. _

_ This only served to annoy Solas further, it seemed, as he arose from his seat. “I do not care about the resources, Dorian. I care that you live on. You put everyone else before yourself, in battle and in peace. You believe that you are less valuable to this Inquisition than everybody else. I am angry, not at you, but at those who taught you to think so little of yourself.” _

_ Dorian frowned, not knowing what to think. Was this a test? What did he need to say to pass? If Solas’ rant was genuine then the response became even harder. He was at a complete loss for how to reply. That almost never happened in his experience. _

_ “I... I don’t know what you want me to say. I am not going to apologise for saving your life, if that’s what you want,” he said slowly. _

_ “What do you remember from after your injury?” Solas had asked, changing the subject abruptly. _

_ “I... I remember you shouting. In Elvish, I think. Then, no that can’t be right...” he furrowed his brow further.  _

_ “I did kiss you,” he confirmed, “and I meant it. I care about you, Dorian, and I do not want to see you hurt.” _

_ “I care about you too,” he had smiled. “Honestly, I had not thought this a possibility. You have never shown any interest in men. Or humans for that matter.” _

_ “Am I not showing interest now?” _

—

The memory of their first kiss brought a soft smile to Dorian’s face, remembering it fondly. That moment had been a little over seven months ago, yet it felt simultaneously like it happened yesterday and an age ago. So much had happened since then and yet that memory was as clear as the water at the Well of Sorrows. It felt like the happiest dream, and he had just awoken, attempting to cling onto every detail from those events. He wanted to preserve it for all eternity.

He felt himself drift into another memory, as the comfortable rhythm of the horse trotting calmed him, allowing his mind to wander.

—

_ The first time they slept together wasn’t romantic or even planned, but after one of their frequent debates turned disputes. Dorian was arguing that blood magic was inherently evil and only wrought destruction on all it touched. In his experience, the price was paid by others, however, not the caster themselves. That was what was so dangerous about it, in his opinion. People might be willing to pay a certain price themselves, but to make that decision for someone else was unthinkable.  _

_ Solas, on the other hand, was adamant that blood magic could be used in moderation and that it was like any other source of magic, dangerous if abused but perfectly normal. Dorian didn’t even understand why he was so defensive about it. Solas was quite open about the fact that he didn’t perform blood magic of any kind.  _

_ “If it is so acceptable to you, why don’tyou use it?” Dorian had asked, frustration in his voice.  _

_ “Why don’t you use ice magic? It’s simply not the magic I prefer. I am not going to criticise others for simply using that source, however, simply because I do not use it myself,” Solas bit back. _

_ “You don’t know the destruction it can cause. It leaves scars, Solas, not all of them are visible,” he said darkly, hinting at his past, though he dared not speak it aloud.  _

_ The room went quiet for a long time. The atmosphere was tense and filled with frustration on both sides. It almost suffocated him; he almost left the room in that moment, but the weight of what he had eluded to kept his feet from moving anywhere. _

_ “I am sorry that you have had to pay the price for someone else,” he offered quietly, “but your bad experience does not speak for every blood mage. I am aware that things are different in Tevinter. I don’t know what you have been subjected to, nor am I demanding you tell me. I am not supporting those who seek to harm others. I am simply open to other methods.” _

_ Dorian had nodded in appreciation, though he was still frustrated. He had no idea why though. Solas’ reasoning was sound enough and yet Dorian found himself dissatisfied with his trust in the applications of blood magic. Even the name alluded to the danger it incurred.  _

_ He had found himself pressed up against Solas, kissing him passionately, as if trying to convey the depth of his emotion on this subject through physical means where he lacked the words. He had pushed the shorter man up against the desk, without resistance. Solas had responded with equal vigour. It seemed that they were both desperate for this. _

_ It had been quick, a fumble for them to both get to know one another on a more physical level. Their first time had been by no means perfect or even one of the best experiences in Dorian’s life and yet it had been significant. This was the first time he had slept with a man with whom he was in an actual relationship. It wasn’t some sexual arrangement, nor was it a quick fuck in the dark, never to see one another again. No, this was the first time sex had meant anything beyond the act itself.  _

_ He had been surprised, despite knowing this at the time, that Solas had been there when he woke up. He had half expected to awake to an empty bed, perhaps a note on the table suggesting that this was a mistake. The reality had been much sweeter than he’d imagined. Solas was draped over his chest, curled into his body as if he offered all the heat left in the world.  _

_ That, in Dorian’s humble opinion, was one of the greatest gifts someone like him could be given. _

—

_ The next memory followed on immediately as the previous scene melted to black. It reformed in the guise of the Winter Palace. He had been making small talk with various Orlesian nobles all night, sneaking off with the Inquisitor now and then to do some important snooping. This plot ended up being really quite mundane compared to some of the schemes he remembered from being back in Tevinter.  _

_ It had all come to a head with major conflict as they fought off Florianne. The battle was gruelling, she was a talented rogue, but they had eventually prevailed. They were all exhausted as they returned to the Empress with the news, confirming that her rule was secured. Pleased that she faced no more threats to her life or to her power, Celene extended the party late into the evening, imploring that all Inquisition members remain for at least a few more hours. _

_ And so the party raged on. Dorian found himself, however, on a balcony overlooking the courtyard. It really was a beautiful view, but that had been stained with images of Florianne’s destruction, her raw power and also her pure hatred. Despite the disturbance to the view, the cool air felt nice on his skin, calming him as his muscles relaxed from the recent combat.  _

_ “Dance with me?” he heard that smooth elven voice say from behind him.  _

_ That woke him up faster than a cold bucket of water over his head in the middle of winter in Emprise du Lion.His head spun around to look at the man in front of him, trying to work out if the offer was serious. _

_ “You would dance with the evil Tevinter magister in public? Here of all places? Do you have a death wish?”  _

_ “Perhaps,” Solas had helpfully answered, “but I do wish to dance with the one I have come to love on this occasion.” _

_ Dorian thought his eyes could not widen any further, but apparently he’d been wrong. “I.. yes, I would like to dance with you.” _

_ Solas’ lips turned up in a subtle smile as he took Dorian’s hand, leading him towards the ballroom floor. This was the first time they had displayed their relationship publicly, he recalled, as he remembered the nerves that had rushed through him like ants over dated fruit. Yet he’d pushed past that, letting Solas lead the dance as he felt himself being pulled close.  _

_ Once he met Solas’ eyes in that moment, however, all his fears scurried away as he smiled brightly at the man in front of him. All others in the room faded away as he focussed solely on his elven lover, looking up at him as if he were worth the world. _

_ “I love you too, you know,” he had whispered quietly so only they could hear. _

_ “I know, ma vhenan,” Solas smiled. “I know.” _

— 

As the dance ended, the memory faded away and Dorian returned to the present. They had almost reached Skyhold, he realised with a smile. It would not be long before he finally got to see Solas again, after two long, tedious weeks away. His tiredness left him as he felt invigorated by some of the most significant memories in the history of their relationship. 

When they reached the gates of Skyhold, he quickly slipped off his horse at the first practical opportunity. He scouted the crowd- people always gathered when the Inquisitor returned- searching for Solas. He couldn’t see his lover anywhere. Perhaps he’d simply been preoccupied with something and forgotten the world around him, Dorian theorised.

A tap on his back caused him to swivel around quickly- and straight into Solas’ arms, voiding his previous concerns. The other man’s eyes were bright, his lips turned upwards in a smile. He wrapped his arms around Solas who quickly returned the embrace, much to his satisfaction. He was glad to be back home finally and in the arms of his fiancé. 

“Welcome back, ma vhenan,” he rumbled in his ear. “I did not see you in the Fade.”

“I barely slept,” Dorian admitted.

“Were you troubled by your dispute with Bull and Sera?” he frowned, pulling back to look at his face.

“No, we reconciled a few days into the trip. The Inquisitor was tired of our collective antisocial behaviour, so we all apologised and moved on,” Dorian explained. “I was hoping to see you so that I could tell you that, but it seems I had to wait until my return.”

“Then what troubled you?” 

Dorian could see that his brow furrowed in confusion and perhaps concern as Solas pulled back. His eyes scanned his body, looking for ongoing injuries which might be the source of his insomnia.

“I am not injured. I simply found it difficult to sleep alone,” Dorian smiled in amusement.

Solas’ face shifted into an expression of surprise. He had not expected Dorian to become so dependant on him. That made him anxious that he was abusing his power; he did not want Dorian to feel as though he relied entirely upon him. He realised belatedly that his nerves had probably shown on his face. He’d gotten so used to having his mask down with Dorian that he sometimes forgot when it was necessary.

“Relax, Amatus,” Dorian’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “This is a normal couple thing. I confess, it has never happened to  me before, but I have not had a lasting relationship with anyone before you. My encounters were purely solitary, as you well know.” His face switched suddenly from the serious expression currently adorning it to his usual cheerful smile. “Anyhow, I believe we have some catching up to do, now that all the important discussions are out the way.”

Solas relaxed at this confession, a small smile creeping back onto his face. “I believe you are right. Perhaps this sort of catching up is best done in the privacy of our quarters.”

Dorian smirked. “I would have to agree. Now, let’s see about a proper welcome home.”


	5. Chapter 5

It turned out that planning a wedding took more effort than either of them had anticipated. After Dorian’s return from his trip with Bull and Sera to the Emerald Graves, they began planning immediately. As their self-appointed wedding planner, Josephine was constantly asking them new and unexpected questions that neither of them would have ever thought of, such as what colour they wanted their cakes iced, or how many seats per table were appropriate. Solas and Dorian spent almost every moment of their spare time coming up with answers to such questions as well as debating the more significant things such as who would officiate and the actual date of the wedding. That time included when they were on the road together as they would hang back and plan whilst the Inquisitor chatted with whichever other member had been chosen for that excursion.

On the day they had returned from a week long trip to the Hinterlands, the Ambassador had dragged them into her office. They were both exhausted and frankly not in the mood, but humoured Josephine anyway since she was responsible for much of their progress. Without her, they would have never gotten a wedding of this quality together with such short notice.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” the Antivan greeted politely as they stepped into her office. “I read over the final guest list for your wedding whilst you were gone and I have an important question. I know you do not get along with your family, Dorian, but are you sure you don’t want to even try inviting them? Perhaps they will come around if they realise you have happily settled down. If they refuse, then no harm was done.”

Solas felt Dorian stiffen next to him, his entire body tense as if ready for battle. He placed his hand on the other’s shoulder to reassure him that he was here for him.

“I don’t want them here. Not after what they’ve done,” Dorian said quietly but forcefully. “You don’t understand what it’s like. They might show up simply to make a public scene in an attempt to stop the wedding. They will never come around. I will not see the happiest day of my life ruined by them,” he paused, then added, “Plus I cannot put Solas in that position. He should not have to be subject to degradations simply because of his race on his own wedding day.”

“Do not worry about me, ma vhenan,” Solas said softly, “I have endured worse. I will stand by you whatever you decide. I know what your parents’ acceptance would mean to you. I can put aside any offenses for your contentment.”

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Dorian argued.

“And you should not have been subjected to a blood magic ritual to force you into a marriage only to provide an heir,” Solas pointed out. “Yet if they have come around, I will not be the one to stand in the way of you and parental support.”

Dorian maintained eye contact for around a minute, clearly trying to decide what he wanted to do. It wasn’t an easy decision, either way there would be hurt and pain but Solas’ face remained a promise that, whatever happened, he would still have someone at his side at the end of it all.

“Invite them,” Dorian decided, not breaking eye contact with Solas. “But do not place them at the front. Give priority to our friends in the Inquisition. I shall deal with whatever happens.”

Solas offered him a smile, supportive and yet private. Dorian glanced over at Josephine who looked satisfied with the result of this discussion. She was very persuasive, he’d give her that. She knew how to play her audiences.

“I shall send out invitations as soon as possible. Theirs will take the most time to arrive, given the distance between Skyhold and Minnrathous,” she smiled at them. “I am glad you decided to invite them. It will give you closure if nothing else. Now I believe I have kept you long enough. You both look exhausted from your trip.”

“Thank you for everything, Lady Ambassador,” Solas bowed his head respectfully.

“How many times have I told you to simply call me Josephine?” She shook her head.

“Oh I don’t know. I lost count after eight,” Dorian slipped back under his usual unperturbed facade. “Goodnight, Josephine. And thank you.”

She laughed aloud as he joked, before returning her task of writing to whatever noble was currently harassing the Inquisition as they turned and walked out the office. Dorian’s hand reached for his fiancé’s as they crossed the Great Hall, clasping his fingers tightly around Solas’.

“I hope I made the right decision ,” Dorian sighed when they reached their quarters. He removed his staff quickly and dropped all his supplies, not paying particular care to either. He was too tired and, after that meeting, too tense to care about being neat and tidy. “I have a bad feeling about inviting them.”

Solas removed his own gear with much more care, as he set his staff against the desk in their room and placed his pack in the corner of the room. He then made his way across the room to join Dorian, who had taken up pacing whilst rubbing his hands together.Calmly, he placed an arm on Dorian’s shoulder to prevent his pacing. The Tevinter mage finally met his gaze, worry and fear filled his eyes.

“No one in the Inquisition will allow your parents to hurt you,” he reassured, his gaze intense as he maintained eye contact, “least of all me. The Inquisitor would sooner execute them on site. She is rather fond of you as a friend and the Inquisition has sufficient resources to protect you on our wedding day. I will not allow them to harm you again, Dorian.”

Dorian huffed. “I am not concerned about your support, though I appreciate it. It’s just... Things are different back home. They have a million ways, subtle or otherwise, to belittle you, ways that would put Orlesians playing the Game to shame. There are so many outcomes to this that I cannot possibly know what to be prepared for. My parents are hardly fond of me and my preferences. I am almost certain that they will scheme and plot. That is if they decide to turn up.”

Solas shifted his arm so that he cupped Dorian’s cheek, a finger gently rubbing soothing circles upon his soft skin. 

“That is their decision. You have done all you can. It is now their turn to prove themselves. Whether they come to our wedding or not, you have offered an olive branch. That in itself has taken immense courage, especially after what you have endured at their hands. You have proven yourself strong and yet willing to move forward. They lack maturity and wisdom both if they cannot see that,” Solas replied, his voice low and serious.

Dorian sighed heavily, his muscles finally beginning to relax a little. “I suppose you’re right. No use worrying about what I cannot control. I shall simply have to wait this one out.”

“Come, we are both exhausted. Let us wash any dirt from the Hinterlands, and then rest. We deserve as much,” Solas coaxed him towards the tub of water that awaited them.

After every expedition they went on, the Inquisition was always kind enough to draw a hot bath upon the return of the Inquisitor’s party. The staff had never said a word about it, nor had anyone, but it seemed that it was one of the perks of being in Adaar’s inner circle. The water was always kept pleasantly warm using heating runes applied to the the side of the basin. It was never too hot that it would burn, but equally it was enough to relax all tense muscles and injuries at least a little from their trips. 

They supposed they had Dagna to thank for such exquisite results.

Dorian particularly enjoyed this luxury tonight, in need to a good relaxing. He closed his eyes, sighing in relief at the warm water. He and Solas bathed together, saving time so that they could rest sooner. By this point, it was the early hours of the morning, the moon still high in the sky, but not for much longer. If they were to rise at a reasonable time for debriefing then that meant they would only have six hours at absolute most before they would be dragged up by one of the War Council members.

Needless to say, they were determined to make the most of their off-time, spending it on a well-earned rest.

Dorian slipped into bed after drying off and redressing in his night clothes, with Solas right behind him. He sighed happily as he felt his lover’s chin on his shoulder and his arm draped over his chest. In turn, he wrapped his arms around the other man, drawing him in close. He smelt strongly of the Embrium from their soap. It had been an engagement gift from Josephine- a rather expensive gift, but she had insisted that they needed to smell nice on their wedding day. Dorian had to admit that the luxury reminded him of home- in the good way, that is. He sometimes missed the exuberant smells and the luxurious fabrics. Even though he knew the corruption of the Imperium, it was still his homeland.

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of Solas’s head, inhaling the sweet odour as he did so. He felt the other man move even closer to him, his eyes shut but a smile played at his lips. 

Dorian could not help but wonder at what he had done to deserve such good fortune as he succumbed to the pull of sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

The week before their wedding was finally here and Skyhold was abuzz with activity. Various guests were arriving, the courtyard was being set up and the whole Inquisition was acting as expected with such a significant event as a wedding on the horizon. People were more willing to chat, had more energy, and those in positions of power were more lenient with their hours and restrictions. It was all rather heartwarming to see the organisation come together like this over a simple marriage.

It was on the eve of the wedding that Dorian was called into Josephine’s office. He had to admit that he was slightly nervous. What if something had gone wrong at the last moment? Why was only he being summoned? Was there an unforeseen problem with him that meant plans for the wedding must change unless resolved? He tried to steel himself. Surely, for at least half the absurd thoughts that ran through his head Solas would also be present.

Perhaps this was nothing to do with the wedding.

“Greetings, Dorian,” the ambassador addressed him upon his arrival. Her office was neat and tidy as usual, all her belongings and documents well organised on her desk. However, upon entering, Dorian immediately noticed two people he never expected to see in this setting: his parents. 

When he had sent the invitation, Dorian had half expected an angry reply, letting him know what a disappointment to the family he was. When he received no such response nor any reply at all, he assumed that he was officially removed from the family and all communications had ceased. It appeared he had been wrong on both counts.

“Lady Ambassador, Mother, Father,” he nodded in greeting to each of them in turn. He may be completely addled but he still had basic manners. 

“Your parents arrived around a half hour ago. I have run through the schedule for tomorrow with them already,” Josephine offered, clearly trying to keep the atmosphere neutral. 

“Dorian. It is nice to see you healthy and happy,” his mother commented, her face betraying no emotion. “It has been too long since we saw each other last.”

Dorian swallowed his desire to make a snarky comeback about her caring that he was happy. He would try his best to be civil, for the sake of the wedding if nothing else.

“Time has flown by since I left Minnrathous,” he agreed stiffly. 

“You have been very busy, it seems,” his father spoke. “You have joined a large organisation to prevent the end of the world. You have been fighting demons, from what I have heard. You have found someone suitable for marriage.”

“Yes, he’s quite an extraordinary man,” Dorian made sure to emphasise that he would not be marrying a girl, as they so clearly wished. He was living his own life now, not for his parents, but for himself.

His father visibly gulped, making Dorian smile in satisfaction. However, much to his surprise, the Magister replied, “I look forward to meeting him. However, I was hoping that we could catch up first.” He glanced cautiously at Josephine. “Alone.”

The Ambassador caught the cue and offered, “I believe that the battlements are the best place for a private conversation. I shall inform all members of the Inquisition not to bother you unless there is an emergency.”

Dorian nodded and gestured his parents to follow him. There were a few prying glances as they moved through the Great Hall, but thankfully there were enough decent people who could at least hide their nosiness. Subtly was decidedly lacking, it seemed, in the vocabulary of some. The walk was quiet and tense. Dorian didn’t dare say a word lest he break this uncomfortable silence and warp it into something far worse.

“Here we are,” Dorian gestured with his arms as he perched himself on a stone bench. “What is it that you’d like the discuss?”

“We simply want to hear about the last year,” his father said as he and his mother sat on the bench across from him. It was clear that there was an ulterior motive to his words. There always was, Dorian sighed internally. 

“Well, I have been very busy in my efforts to help seal the hole in the sky, stop the Venetori extremists from killing everyone, killing demons and the like, and stopping the Orlesian civil war. It has been quite the year,” he summarised.

“Why did you get yourself involved in all of this?” his mother sighed.

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, there’s a gaping hole in the sky, threatening the entirety of Thedas which isn’t going to fix itself. The Inquisition has helped a lot of people, not just in sealing the Breach. It is a good cause: one which we cannot escape. The problems it is solving face all of us. My place is here, helping the Inquisitor,” he explained in exasperation. It wasn’t exactly a difficult concept to grasp when there was a constant reminder every time you looked up.

“And will you return to the Imperium once its aims have been achieved?” the Magister pressed.

“Is that what this is about? Dragging me back off to Tevinter? Well, I’m sorry to say that I do not mean to return permanently. Don’t get me wrong, I will most definitely be fighting the injustices exacted by the Imperium, but I do not mean to live there, if that’s what you mean.”

“Is it because of your elven lover?” his Father almost sneered. “You would hold yourself back from greatness for some knife-ear? I might be able to look past your... preferences, but this is absurd!”

“Don’t call him that! His name is Solas! You haven’t even met him and you are already insulting him! What happened to being eager to meet him? I should have known better than to think you a reasonable person! Solas is not some perverse fetish! He is the love of my life, and I will not dismiss his safety for so called greatness!”

“Then you are a fool, Dorian!” his mother spoke, her voice cold and harsh despite being much quieter than either of the two men. “You could offer so much to the Magisterium and yet you choose to waste your efforts here in the South, messing around with some elven apostate. You have made your bed, but it is not only you who must lie in it. You have brought disgrace to our family.”

“I have chosen happiness over power. You are simply jealous that you did not do the same!” Dorian replied icily. “I think I shall take my leave now. I’ve heard enough criticism of my life choices for one day.”

He abruptly stood up, glaring at them, before marching away. However, he didn’t get far before he was stopped by his father’s voice calling out to him once more.

“We should still like to meet this Solas,” he insisted from behind Dorian.

“You think I would let you near him after what you’ve just said to me- your own son?” he twirled around incredulously. “Do you think me stupid as well as a disgrace? Wait, don’t answer that. You have made it perfectly clear what you think of me.“

His father paused for a moment. “Perhaps meeting him would change my mind. Although I do not approve of this ... endeavour, I would like to examine all the evidence.”

“Of course you would. Sizing up your enemies, no doubt,” Dorian’s voice dripped with distaste. 

“If you do this and we still disapprove, we shall leave before the wedding,” his mother bargained. She was always the crafty one of the two. “If not, we shall stay.”

Dorian’s thoughts scurried around rapidly as he tried to work out how to respond. On the one hand, letting his parents anywhere near Solas would be a risk. He knew his fiancé could handle himself, but words could cut deep, as he well knew. On the other hand, agreeing to these terms would prevent any conflict on his actual wedding day- something he would very much appreciate. If Tevinter could leave him alone for one day, tomorrow would be the perfect one to choose.

In the end, the choice was an obvious one. Although he might not like it, agreeing to his mother’s offer was his only real option here.

“Alright. I’ll take you to him,” he said sharply.

He turned on heel, heading down the battlements as he made his way to the rotunda. He didn’t once look back to see if they were still following him. If they decided not to come along, they were the ones breaking the terms, not him. 

“Solas, Amatus, we have guests. My mother and father have requested to meet you,” he greeted his lover stiffly. 

Solas immediately looked up from the book he had been studying intently, his gaze flicking from Dorian to his parents and back to Dorian again. He rose from his seat and offered his hand out to the Magister and his wife.

“It is a pleasure. I was not expecting to meet you so soon,” he greeted.

Magister Pavus looked at Solas’ hand, taking it reluctantly, quickly releasing his grip. Aquinea, however, simply scrunched up her face in disgust, refusing to shake the elf’s hand.

“So you are the man Dorian is to marry?” the Magister examined him, as if looking for cracks on a vase. “And you are a mage?”

“To answer both your questions, I am,” Solas responded, undeterred by their rudeness. “Your son is an extraordinary man. He continues to surprise me every day.”

“Hmm...” Halward Pavus did not sound convinced. “What is your specialty?”

“I am an expert in the Fade. I have studied it intensely and have explored many different areas. Of course, I am adept at offensive spells as well, as is needed with regular fights against demons as well as bandits and more commonplace threats.”

“He tells some very interesting stories about his time in the Fade, if you’ve the time and the disposition to listen,” Dorian smiled, although it was clear that he had his mask and all his defences up. It would be incorrect to assume that he was comfortable simply because he was smiling.

“Perhaps another time,” his father brushed him off, still staring intently at Solas. “Are you Dalish or a city elf?”

“Neither. I grew up in a small village without an alienage but I have spent most of my life alone, exploring the Fade as I saw fit. I believe in the Elven Gods though, if that is what you are asking.”

Dorian had to suppress a smile at that response. Little did his entitled parents know that they were speaking to none other than Fen’Harel. They would quake in their boots if they knew the truth, and likely attempt to forge some sort of political alliance with him.

“Hmm so you are not Andrastian then,” his mother remarked judgementally. “Will you not marry in a Chantry then?”

“No, we’re having a lovely outdoor wedding. The weather is looking quite promising, especially for a castle in the mountains,” Dorian replied, even though neither of his parents had even spared a glance at him since this conversation had begun. Dorian knew they were purposefully disinterested in their son, instead finding Solas a more agreeable target. It was almost a game to them. They would bait Solas, subtly making more and more outrageous inferences, waiting to discover at what point he would snap. Solas was a very patient man, however, and Dorian took pleasure that his parents would be in for a challenge. 

His mother’s face crinkled. “Will you be having an  elven wedding then?”

“Not in the traditional Dalish sense. We have both discussed aspects which are important to us. This will be a merging of different cultures. I will say some words in Elvish. However, Dorian wishes for Leliana, a former Chantry sister and fellow Inquisition member, to officiate. Neither of us is particularly willing to lose parts of our culture. Just as elven culture is important to me, there are parts of Tevinter culture to which Dorian remains partial.”

“So this wedding- if one can even call it that- does not adhere to any one tradition. If one can make anything into a wedding, how can one know when one is truly getting married? I could be at a wedding and not even know it!” his Father exclaimed.

“Dorian and I,” Solas replied calmly, “have spoken extensively about the intricacies of our wedding. We have come to an agreement on what will suit both of our interests. If you wish to see the ceremony for yourselves, you are welcome to attend tomorrow. I assure you, there will be no room for doubt that it is a wedding.”

“I cannot stand for such sacrilege!” Magister Pavus raised his voice as he abruptly turned to Dorian, finally looking at his son. “First, you refuse to marry a woman, denying us an heir! Next, you choose to stain the sanctity of marriage by wedding this male elven apostate, bending the rules of marriage to suit you! You are a disgrace to this household!”

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” Dorian shouted. “You and your fucking legacy! You don’t care whatso-fucking-ever if your son is happy or even safe! Well guess what? I’m not asking for your approval Magister Halward Pavus! You can take your homophobic, racist arse back to Tevinter! I don’t need you!”

He felt himself shake as his hands balled up, ready for a fight. He felt fury consume him as he glared at his sorry excuse for a father. His mother didn’t care a jot for him either, her silence was just as deadly, but at the moment she didn’t hold his attention.

“Get out,” he heard Solas say quietly but firmly. “You are not welcome here, speaking to Dorian like that. He is one of the most brilliant people I have ever met and you treat him like the dirt under your feet simply because of his preference in partner. You do not deserve to know him.”

Neither of his parents made any motion to leave, standing their ground as if at war. Perhaps they were. 

However, much to their relief, some of Cullen’s soldiers appeared in the doorway to escort them out. It was likely Leliana’s doing, Dorian realised, as she must have heard the shouting and sent aid for them. Never was Dorian so relieved to have someone eavesdropping on supposedly private conversations. 

He felt his anger dull as exhaustion fought for dominance over his thoughts. He was so angry at his parents, and yet all this fighting exhausted him. He simply wanted it to be over. He found he didn’t care whether they ever reconciled, or if his parents never spoke another word to him again. It didn’t matter. Dorian was tired of fighting a losing battle against his parents when no progress was ever made. Maybe this time will be different, he thought every time. Well, he was done hoping for the best from them, done playing pretend that they might come around and accept him. The opportunity for that had been and gone. They had just blown their last chance at reconciliation. 

A hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts as he met the concerned gaze of his fiancé. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Dorian admitted with a defeated sigh. “Why do I always let them back in? It always ends the same way. They criticise my existence and I end up getting hurt.”

“This is my fault. I should not have pushed you to invite them. I... I did not realise how badly they would behave,” Solas struggled to meet his eyes, breaking their gaze. “Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

Dorian cupped his face, forcing him to look him in the eye. “You owe me no apology. We both know that Josephine manipulated the entire thing in her idealistic hope that family would reconnect and good would prevail. For an ambassador, she is surprisingly naive. Besides, I wanted them to come around, to finally look at me and see something other than a disgrace. A foolish hope, it seems.”

“Not foolish at all,” Solas countered. “We all seek approval. You don’t need it from them. I know that I see a brave and exceptional man who has overcome a lot to achieve what he has today. You are not a disgrace, not to me, not to Adaar, not to the Inquisition. I despise that they made you feel as though you are worth less than everyone else, that you do not deserve to be cared for, that you should neglect yourself in the stead of others.”

Dorian sighed quietly. “I... thank you. You know, it was you who taught me to actually value myself. Before, well I was very good at acting like I was content, but, with you, I feel genuinely happy. I didn’t know what I was missing. If I had, I would have sought you out sooner,” he laughed softly, more of a vibration carried through his hand which rested on Solas’ cheek. “I cannot wait to marry you. My parents’ refusal to accept this union aside, this is one of the most exciting days of my life, knowing that only a night’s rest remains between me and our wedding.”

Solas leaned up to kiss Dorian softly, his lips pressed firmly but chastely against his lover’s. He felt Dorian relax, as he massaged circles into his tensed back, working at the knots that had formed as a result of his supposed parents.

“I am equally eager for our wedding to come,” he murmured, pulling away only slightly, as he leant their foreheads together. “However, I would not wish away a single second spent in your company.”

“Ever the romantic,” Dorian smiled back. “One of the many things I would not have expected of you. You know, you are quite the enigma.”

“I try to keep you on your toes,” he teased, a smile brightening his face. “I wouldn’t want your to lose interest.”

“Trust me,” his voice dropped to a low tone, “that will never happen.”

Dorian leaned in to kiss him once more, this time pressing harder. He reached down with the hand not cupping Solas’s face, resting it on his fiancé’s ass. The other man groaned in response, before pulling away, albeit reluctantly. Dorian whined at the loss, at which Solas could only huff out a short laugh.

“Unless you would like a repeat of what happened with Cassandra on the night of our engagement, I suggest that we leave it there,” Solas explained, his breath still short.

“Hmmm... Point taken,” Dorian responded, his eyes still lidded as he looked at Solas with lust in his eyes.“Perhaps, instead of stopping, we should move elsewhere?”

Solas pretended to consider it. No one would miss either of them, not on the eve of their wedding. They basically had the day to themselves. This was almost expected of them. Certainly, no one would expect them to be working. He knew that already though. He’d been reminded on numerous occasions by the Inquisitor, who had basically insisted that he take at least a few days off before and after the wedding.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” he murmured back.

Dorian smirked. “Then what are we waiting for?” 


	7. Chapter 7

The much-anticipated wedding day had finally come as the sun shone brightly over Skyhold. The sky was clear of any offending clouds which might have foretold rain in the coming future, as the blue expanse was marked only by the sun itself. The air was warmer than usual, none of the biting cold from winter days gone by. Whatever higher powers were out there seemed to be smiling on them today. 

Solas and Dorian had slept separately, as was expected of them on the eve of their wedding. Solas had stayed in their chambers, whilst Dorian had shared Cullen’s room, since all the guests chambers were occupied, either with visiting dignitaries or actual guests for the ceremony. 

He and Cullen got along well, meeting for regular chess matches. At first, the Commander had been very wary of him, as a former Templar in the same room as a known apostate, one from Tevinter no less. Dorian himself had his reservations, but it seemed that his charms and Cullen’s down to earth nature complimented each other rather well. Naturally, he had always cheated at chess, but Cullen had picked up on this pretty quickly and spun it to his advantage, meaning he usually won their little games. 

“Would you stop pacing?” Cullen interrupted Dorian’s nervousness. He was already fully dressed the attire that he had designed himself. In the end, he had decided to go with his more personal sketch. A dark blue sash made of silk cut across his torso, hanging over a pristine white fitted suit. All the edges were finished with a line of royal purple, adding a sense of individuality to the garment. To compliment the colours of his attire, he had applied eyeshadow which subtly faded from deep blue to purple, tying his look together. In addition, he had applied subtle light grey writing to the white of his sleeves, the words twisting about his forearm in cursive. The writing was in Tevene, words he had proudly come up with all on his lonesome. 

All in all, he was rather proud of his creation.

“Do you think he will like it?” he turned to Cullen, who was looking at him fondly despite his protests. 

“Dorian, while Solas isn’t exactly the easiest person to read, anyone can tell that he loves you. He will love you whatever you wear. But yes, I think he’ll be blown away,” Cullen responded, an amused twinkle in his eye. He was also dressed by this point, wearing a much simpler grey suit, his usual fur adorned on the back.

Dorian nodded shortly, focussing his efforts on not returning to his former pacing or fiddling with parts of his outfit. He knew none of it would help, but damn it he had a right to feel nervous on his wedding day. It wasn’t like he planned on having another one.

“But you don’t think it’s too Tevinter? He abhors everything my homeland stands for. What if it makes him rethink his choice?” he began to fret again. He was almost certain that the words he was saying were nonsense, but he couldn’t help but worry about the off chance that he was right. 

“Dorian, this is all your design, correct?” Cullen sighed, humouring him.

“I suppose...”

“Then you need not worry. This does not represent Tevinter. It represents  you,”  he reassured him, patting him gently on the shoulder.

At that moment, a loud knock resounded at the wooden door. Dorian immediately turned his attention towards it, looking at it as if it were a fear demon come to kill him slowly.

“Come in,” Cullen called.

Josephine entered with a smile, holding her usual clipboard. However, instead of official documents, today it held the wedding schedule. Dorian thought fondly back to both his and Solas’ protests that she was dedicating so much of her time to their wedding. She had brushed them off, claiming that it was preferable to some of her usual work, stating that she rather enjoyed the distraction. That memory briefly distracted him from his nerves, like an oasis in the Western Approach. 

“We’re ready for you now, Dorian,” she said, the excitement evident in her voice. 

Dorian nodded, smiling anxiously. He followed her out, through the courtyard. Every step felt as if it took longer than the last, as he progressed along the battlements, through the courtyard and finally through the Great Hall. He knew it couldn’t have lasted longer than a few minutes, and yet it almost felt like hours. He felt the weight of people staring at him, clearly eager to get a look at one of the grooms on his happy day. That only served to increase his anxiety. Today all of the Inquisition was looking at him.

However, when he saw Solas, standing there at the base of the bandstand, which was adorned with a mixture of white, purple and blue flowers, all of his fears slipped away. His breath was quite literally taken away as he heard himself gasp. It turned out that Arlathan wedding clothes were absolutely breathtaking as Solas wore a tailed coat of emerald green, the shoulders padded as clean lines. Across his torso cut the fastenings, shaped and coloured like crisp autumn leaves. The collar was high, accentuating his broad torso. Subtle golden threads were weaves into the green of his coat, making him seem ethereal as he quite literally shimmered in the sunlight.

As he proceeded down the aisle, barely noting the guests, his friends, as he walked by them, his eyes remained fixated on Solas. His fiancé was staring right back at him, his face filled with awe as he also seemed to be taken aback by his intended’s appearance. After what seemed like an eternity, they stood face to face, gazing at each other with a love that was so visible that a blind man would see it. 

Leliana stood behind them on the bandstand itself, smiling happily, something rather rare for the spymaster whose disposition was usually intense and focussed. Off to her right stood the Inquisitor. They had asked her to be their Witness- a role given to a parent usually- given all that she had done for them individually as well as for the world. If not for her actions, they would likely have never met.

“Friends, we have gathered here today to celebrate the union of Dorian Pavus and Solas. They have done the impossible and managed to find love in this trying time. Their marriage demonstrates that we must have hope. We should not only expect death and destruction but also love and affection,” Leliana said in a rousing speech. “I believe that you have prepared some lines in Elvish, Solas.”

Solas nodded and cleared his throat before speaking, “ _ Dirthera lath var. Ma vhenan na mala vhenan.  Sulahn'nehn ma na mala Sulahn'nehn.  Ma Sulevin na las la Glandival. Ir mala Vhenas.” _

Dorian found himself entranced by the words, despite not knowing their meaning. There was a certainty in Solas’ voice which reassured him, it grounded him as he was reminded of the strength of their bond.

“And you have also prepared something, Dorian?” Leliana interrupted the almost magical energy coursing through the mild air.

He smiled with ease. “Solas, you have so many extraordinary qualities that I do not have the time to describe them all in the detail they deserve. You are generous, wise- yet willing to take the time to teach others, you always do what you believe is right, no matter if no one in the room agrees with you. I feel unbelievably lucky every time I wake next to you. I hope that we have many more days together. I cannot wait to call you my husband, and for you to call me yours.”

Leliana turned to the crowd. “Does anyone hold any objections to this marriage? If so, speak now.”

The crowd, luckily, went silent. Dorian half thought it was because of the threatening reputation that their Spymaster held. He had no doubt that, if anyone had spoken up at that point, they would conveniently disappear. Perhaps their family would be threatened. 

“In that case, I pronounce you husbands in the eyes of the law of Thedas. May your union be long-lived and bring you happiness.”

Dorian took Solas’ face in his hands and kissed him. He felt both of their smiles as they did so, Solas’ hands coming to rest on his waist gently. The cheering of the guests reminded them of their company as they parted. Solas took his hand with a small squeeze, as they walked back down the aisle, shooting smiles at all of their friends. 

Blackwall seemed to be wiping away tears, trying to hide the fact hat he’d been crying. Sera whooped noisily whilst Bull, who sat beside her, wolf whistled loudly. Cassandra’s eyes were red as if she’d been rubbing them intensely, likely to prevent any tears from falling, lest she be stuck in Blackwall’s situation. Varric teased her as he sat by her side, clapping in earnest all the while. Cole appeared to be happy as he relished in the lack of hurt that needed healing. It looked like he was getting a well-deserved break out of this. Finally, Vivienne sat clapping politely, seemingly ignoring all the ruckus going on around her. 

Dorian found himself grinning, not just as a result of his own happiness, but also at seeing the joy of those he considered his friends. Whilst they might not always see eye to eye, Dorian had connected with most of the Inner Circle. They were united in a common goal of saving the world, after all. In the bonding time that the Inquisitor has arranged, he’d gotten to know them all pretty well. It was a relief to see them so relaxed, except perhaps Vivienne who had never actually let her guard down around him and still didn’t seem completely at ease.

After the wedding itself, they celebrated with a meal in the Great Hall with the long dining tables set out. The happy couple were seated at a table perpendicular to the others at the throne-end of the spacious room. Joining them there was the Inquisitor, of course, but also Josephine, Cullen and Leliana, not as their war council, but as their wedding planner, trusted friend, and officiator.

The rest of the Inner Circle were spread out amongst the next two tables, whilst other guests were further down. The only exception to this was Maevaris, the only real friend Dorian had outside the Inquisition now that Felix was gone. He had been quite insistent that she come, fighting off any concerns that she might be a danger to the Inquisition and its reputation. As far as he was concerned, he was simply inviting an old friend to his wedding. It need not be more complicated than that. The woman in question was sat alongside the Inner Circle, seemingly making small talk with ease, despite being a known Magister in the South. That might have been a result of the stern talks Dorian had had with members of the Inner Circle.

However, at that moment, Dorian was not thinking of any of these things, too enthralled with his husband, who was looking back at him fondly. His eyes were simultaneously sharp and so very soft and loving. This, Dorian thought, reflected the paradox that was Solas.

“Are you as overwhelmed as I am?” he murmured softly, as he took his seat, reluctantly releasing the other man’s hand. The kitchen staff brought out the food, gifting them the first servings before hurriedly making their way around the rest of the large room.

“I’m afraid I am,” Solas hummed back, a melodious hint to his usually more sombre voice. “I never thought I would marry at all and to marry someone as unique as you...”

Dorian chuckled lowly. “You say that as if you are not the paragon amongst elven mages. You are at least thrice as intelligent as I am.”

“Not true. You have a fresh perspective,” Solas argued. “But that is enough of that.We shouldn’t bicker on our wedding day.”

“Not even if it’s over who’s luckier?” Dorian teased, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Solas laughed softly. “I fear we shall never agree on that front. May I take this opportunity to express how beautiful you look today? Did you design this yourself?”

“I did,” Dorian smiled proudly. “It’s a mixture between the traditional Tevinter garments and some of my own style. You look exceptional as well, you know. I’m impressed with the Ancient Elvhen of Arlathan. They had style.”

Solas blushed lightly, only visible if you were as close to him as Dorian currently was. “I’m glad you like it. I have reminisced many a time about being able to wear the clothing of my people once more. You have given me that opportunity and so many others.  Thank you ,” Solas spoke quietly to avoid anyone hearing anything they should not know. Only he and the Inquisitor herself knew Solas’ true identity. As his close friend, he had confided in her not to reveal his true nature unless absolutely necessary. She had lived up to his expectations, remaining his friend despite such a revelation. It would not do, however, for the entire Inquisition to know this fact, as it would likely spread fear more than anything else, not to mention Solas’ desire for privacy.

“Solas, for you,  anything ,” he promised as they began to eat, with everyone now having food in front of them. 

The food was excellent, especially compared with the usual bland meals offered to them on the Inquisition’s moderate budget. This meal actually had spices added, a mixture of flavours rather than a unilateral taste of the usual stew. Dorian thoroughly enjoyed the welcome change of tempo, as did much of the rest of the Inquisition, if their satisfied chatter was to be the judge of it. After being fed the same thing for over half a year, it was no wonder these people were excited to have a different meal.

When they had all finished dining, the Inquisitor rose to make a speech. She did not need to do anything but rise to her feet and silence fell, no need for tapping the edge of her glass or calling out to the room. She had that sort of presence about her than meant she commanded the room within an instant. It was what made her such a great leader.

“Friends, on this momentous day, we are celebrating the marriage of two of my closest friends. They have provided me with both professional and personal counsel, making them not only valuable assets with esteemed friends. I believe that Leliana covered most of the serious topics earlier, when she spoke of the importance of finding love in such difficult times. I shan’t repeat her speech,” Adaar proclaimed, “but I do understand that it is customary for others to tell amusing stories about the married couple. I certainly have a few of those.” A mischievous grin crept onto her face. “The first time these two met, you would never have expected them even to become friends. They seemed to be so supremely different that they would never get along. 

In fact, on their first meeting, Dorian criticised Solas’ fashion choices, leading to a rather intense fight about frivolous material possessions. They were so distracted arguing with one another that they completely ignored the bandits we ran into, leaving myself and Cassandra to deal with all eight of them alone.” 

That earned a bout of laughter from the crowd. Dorian thought he heard Maevaris shout out that it sounded exactly like him. He smiled easily at the story, remembering it well himself. Solas shook his head at the tale but was smiling nonetheless. 

“They only realised what had happened,” Herah continued, “when they almost tripped over one of the bodies. The shock on their faces was worth fighting those eight bandits with only Cassandra’s aid. Dorian shrieked like a small child, whilst Solas looked genuinely baffled. The pair of them would have made a pretty painting for one of our walls at Skyhold. Despite that seemingly rough start, they actually managed to befriend one another. They realised that, for all the glaring differences between them, there were twice as many similarities. Had they dismissed each other so quickly, they never would have been sat here today. I know that they are both extremely happy that they looked past the differences and chose to see each other in a different light. So I toast to Dorian and Solas. May your marriage be long lasting and filled with joy.”

And so she closed her speech, raising her glass to them and drinking, soon followed suite by everyone else in the room. 

As she sat down, Dorian noted that Maeveris had stood up, grabbing the attention of those surrounding her. The crowd’s attention quickly shifted to her as people realised what was going on. It was a much slower silence that Adaar’s, but Maevaris did not seem perturbed by that. She was patient as ever, Dorian noted.

“I know most of you do not know who I am, so I shall introduce myself. My name is Maevaris Tilani of the Magisterium. Yes, yes, I know the Magisterium is horribly corrupt, but Dorian and I are doing our best to change that,” she started, in good humour. “I know some of you may still look at Dorian as a suspicious Tevinter mage, someone to be feared, so I would like to relate a story to help you get to know him a little better. I have known Dorian since we were children and he has always been a bit of a book worm. When he was maybe nineteen, I took him to his first tavern, trying to get him to take a break from his constant studies. It is fair to say that he was more than a bit out of his element. Some admirer of his sent him a drink, which he, like a fool, downed. Turns out, he’d been gifted the strongest drink in the house. I lost him for about an hour and when I finally found where he’d gotten to, he was playing cards and openly cheating with six rather rough looking fellows. They were eying him like he was a nug and they were starving wolves. When I tried to tell him as much, he dismissed them as his new closest friends. He told me each of their names, their supposed professions, their adresses and their opinion on cats. These men were now looking at him as if he were off his rocker as he was clearly making it up as he went along. Just as I thought it could not get any weirder, the most intimidating of the whole crew declared that Dorian was indeed his friend and claimed all the information he had provided was correct. What else does Dorian do but kiss this man on the cheek and pronounce him the most caring person he’d ever met?” Maevaris had to stop to chuckle to herself. “The thing was, these men did not forget Dorian after that one rather strange and invasive night. They stayed in contact for years, inviting him to their weekly Wicked Grace games. This drunken man who’d never been in a tavern in his life managed to befriend the oddest troupe of men you’d ever seen. You would never have expected these men to humour the son of a Magister. The point is that Dorian has always been able to make the most unexpected relationships into something beautiful. You can think what you want about Tevinter, but that man,” she pointed at Dorian, “is kind, compassionate, and willing to learn about other people’s lives, no matter how different their circumstances are from his own. I hope you all see that.”

She sat down quietly. Dorian realised that he had tears in his eyes, one of which fell slowly down his face. He was so grateful that she had come. It was good to have a reminder of her homeland as something positive, especially when surrounded by such negative views of the Imperium. He knew of the pain it caused, of course, but he had good memories there too. He felt a sudden pang in his chest, a need to know how those six men were doing now. It had been a good while since he’d heard from any of them. Perhaps he should write a letter, reaching out to them. 

Solas squeezed his hand under the table, offering quiet reassuring. It was also a question. He smiled and squeezed back as his reassurance.

The crowd clapped loudly and he heard some of the Inner Circle whooping at her speech. Bull cheered loudly, slapping Maevaris on the back with what was clearly too much force, not that he even registered that. Even Sera seemed content in her company, despite her aversion to power systems of any kind, especially that of Tevinter.

And so the day passed joyfully, filled with merriment and excitement which penetrated the entire castle. The wedding itself had taken place in the afternoon, ensuring that the sun was high in the sky, meaning that the meal and subsequent festivities went on well into the night. Josephine had organised a ball in the aftermath of dinner, not only for the sake of the married couple, but also as a show to their Orlesian supporters that they were capable of throwing parties that were worthy of their support. Solas had also suggested that it might be to soften the blow of the Inquisition’s blatant support of a marriage between a human and an elf, and Dorian suspected that, as much as the notion disgusted him, that might just be true. Even with them at the centre of attention, a well placed event could placate the masses of Orlesian nobility who might be disgruntled at this union, provided the Game was played right, of course.

Nevertheless, it did give Dorian and Solas the chance to speak to their guests without being ogled by the entire Inquisition and all the other guests in attendance. Dorian took this opportunity to introduce his beloved to Maevaris, taking Solas’ hand in his own.

“Maevaris! I’m so glad you graced us with your presence,” Dorian greeted her, letting go of Solas’ hand to embrace her briefly.

“Well, I had to see for myself which man among men the great Dorian Pavus had chosen out. I shouldn’t have been surprised that you would marry. You did always know the best way to spite Tevinter,” she smirked, pulling back from the embrace to get a better look at Solas, clearly excited to meet him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. He’s mentioned you quite frequently in his letters. I’m Maevaris.”

“Solas,” he responded, with a bow of his head. “The pleasure is mine. He has spoken quite highly of you. I must admit that I admire your work in Tevinter. There is much wrong with the Imperium; it’s good to see people attempting to make a meaningful change.”

“I like him,” she announced to Dorian. “He’s only known me for a minute and he’s already praising my work. I think I’ve gotten less praise from you in thirty years.”

Dorian laughed. “Give him a moment. He’ll give you some pointers about what you should be doing next.”

“On the contrary,” Solas replied. “The Imperium cannot he changed by one woman alone. Other important tasks must be delegated amongst a group of trusted allies. My only concern about Magister Tilvani’s work is her lack of intervention on the front of slavery.”

“Actually,” her face hardened, “I was hoping to discuss that topic with you. I thought that an elven perspective might help. I tried talking to -I think her name was Sera - about it and she snorted and called the slaves weak for not fighting back and said something about the elven slaves moping and being too ‘elfy’, whatever that means.”

“Asking Sera about anything related to elves,” Dorian replied, laughing loudly, “is like asking a wolf about being a druffalo.”

“Sera has rejected her elven heritage,” Solas expanded. “She dislikes anything concerned with being an elf, though she is one herself. As for my opinion on your advances on slavery, I would be happy to share my thoughts with you, but perhaps this is not the right time nor the right place. I will make some notes for you on my ideas. When do you depart?”

“I’m staying for a few more days at least. The journey back to Minnrathous is a long one. I would like a break from being on the road and the Inquisition has offered me a room for as long as I see fit. I suspect I could stay until Corypheus was slain, but I have battles elsewhere which will not wait until this business with the rifts is over. I’ll stay a week at most. Will that be enough time for you to compose your notes?”

“Certainly. It will not take long, since I have thought about this matter many times before,” he promised.

“Well then,” her face shifted back into a grin, “I believe that is enough politics for one evening, especially such a happy one as this. I do not believe I have said my congratulations.”

They fell into easy conversation after that, talking for perhaps a half hour before they were interrupted by the Inquisitor. 

“I apologise for this interruption, but I have someone desperate to talk to you two. Would it be alright if I steal you away?”

“Go,” Maeveris gestured to them. “The other guests are probably vexed that I’ve taken up so much of to time.”

Adaar led them away, winding through the crowd. It took much longer to do this than one might have expected, with people stopping them to offer their congratulations every few steps. In fact, it took almost ten minutes to reach the other end of the main hall, where it would normally not even take a minute, especially for Adaar with her long legs.

Neither Solas nor Dorian was sure who to expect, half supposing that it must be some significant member of the Orlesian Court that they had never heard of, yet were obliged to meet. It would not be any of the Inner Circle; no they would simply have joined in the discussion, not working through the Inquisitor. Nor would it be a soldier or any of the recruits, who would have waited nervously for them to finish off with Maevaris.

However, the person before them was not someone who would have ever crossed their minds.

“Abelas?” Solas asked, his surprise evident as his eyebrows twitched. 

“Solas, Dorian, thank you for meeting with me,” he offered.

“It’s our pleasure,” Dorian greeted smoothly, trying to hide that he was equally shocked by this revelation so as not to seem rude. If one of them was taken aback, it could more easily be explained than the both of them. “We are honoured that you have come so far. Are you here for the wedding or is there other more urgent business we should attend to?”

“I came to congratulate you on your marriage. Love is a beautiful phenomenon, one which I have not been able to witness in many ages,” he replied, his face remaining solemn. “However, I need to speak with you, Dorian. Alone, if your husband does not mind.”

Dorian glanced at Solas to gauge his reaction. In all honesty, he had thought Abelas was here to see Solas rather than himself. They had a shared history in a way that was rare beyond belief. It seemed rather odd that he would want to speak to him of all people.

“Of course,” Solas responded, seemingly content though Dorian could sense that he was equally confused by matters.“I shall see you upon your return, ma vhenan.”

Abelas signalled for him to follow. He spared one final smile at his husband before following suite, jogging slightly to make up for the Sentinel’s head start and quick pace. He found himself being led into the library and they settled in his usual alcove. Dorian wondered whether he knew this or if it was simply a coincidence that they had stopped in his workspace.

“It is about Solas,” he said abruptly, after a slightly awkward pause. “He is... not who he claims to be. He is not merely an elf, but..”

“Fen’Harel,” Dorian finished. “Yes, I am aware. He actually told me himself. I understand what I’m getting into. He will far outlive me and has powers beyond my grasp, I know, but I trust him.”

“That is a mistake,” Abelas warned. “If the Dread Wolf has revealed his identity then he means to strike. As a mortal, you cannot possibly comprehend his motives nor his whims. He is not to be tried. You must be on your guard at all times.”

Dorian crossed his arms, beginning to feel frustrated and condescended. “Do you think I took this lightly? When he first told me, I freaked out, and subsequently did all the research I could. When I came up him with questions, he did not try present himself in some shining light. He told me of his misgivings, his failures, his regrets. We have spent hours upon hours discussing his past and his identity. Solas has not deceived me in this.”

Abelas did not appear to be satisfied, drawing up his profile to stand at full height. An intimidation technique, it seemed. 

“Fen’Harel is not as plainly evil as the Dalish might suppose. He can be manipulative, presenting the bad with the good. It makes him seem more trustworthy. You are so far under his spell that you cannot see the truth of the matter.”

“Do not speak of my husband in that way,” he warned, his voice level. “He took a truth potion -triple the normal dose mind you. He wanted to make sure that he was fully under its effects so that, when I asked difficult questions, his answers were honest. He put his privacy second to his desire for me to trust him, and he  really values his privacy. And yes, before you ask, we did a few starter questions to ensure it had properly kicked in.”

In the blink of and eye, Abelas had backed him into a bookcase, a sword pressed roughly to his neck, forcing him to look upwards. 

“Did you not hear a word I said?” he protested, gulping as the cold metal was pressed closer to his skin.

“What I heard,” Abelas almost growled, “is that you are delusional, too far under his influence to be reasoned with. Death would be a kinder fate than this enslavement.”

“Wait, no! Please don’t do this,” he begged, suddenly grasping the severity of the situation which had so quickly escalated. 

He was shoved further into the wooden bookcase, causing him to yelp in pain. “Give me one reason why I should not.”

“Abelas, I do not want to hurt you,” the Inquisitor’s voice announced her presence, “but if you do not release Dorian, I shall have no choice.”

“This organisation is rife with corruption,” he announced. “You pretend to lead and yet you are following his manipulations, the same as he is.”

“No.”

“No?” he scoffed.

“You come into my base of operations on such a momentous day as this, accusing one groom of deception and master manipulation, and the other of falling for it cluelessly, alongside myself. While your intentions were to warn us, you have overstepped your bounds.”

Neither Adaar nor Abelas moved, their eyes locked intensely for several minutes as if they were each trying to wait the other one out. 

“Dorian, Herah? Is everything alright?” Solas’ voice came from downstairs. Upon receiving no response, his footsteps were audible as he ascended the spiralling stairs to the library.

“Dorian!” he cried, rushing forward frantically. “No! Please don’t hurt him!”

“Are you worried about losing your favourite pet, Fen’Harel?” Abelas spared him a glance.

Solas visibly flinched. “He is my husband, not my pet. He means more to me than you could possibly comprehend. Now please release him.”

“You do not fool me with this act.”

“ _Mana. Ma halani, Solas_ ,” Dorian croaked out, catching everyone’s attention in the room. 

“Hold on, ma vhenan, I won’t let him harm you,” he replied softly, tears streaming down his face. “If you want Fen’Harel, take me instead, Abelas. I will not resist if Dorian is not harmed.”

“You would willingly trade your life for this human mage’s?” he turned his attention to Solas, his grip easing slightly on Dorian. “How do I know this is not another one of your tricks?”

In the next few seconds, many things happened. With his hold loosened, Dorian was able to push Abelas away from his, directing his magic into force as he propelled Abelas so his back was against the balcony. The Inquisitor immediately cast a non-lethal bolt of lightning so the sentinel fell unconscious. Meanwhile, Solas ran to Dorian’s side as he swayed, dizzy from having his breathing restricted. 

“Did he hurt you?” he scanned his husband’s body for injuries, carefully placing his hands on the other man’s shoulders.

“No more than you saw,” Dorian said dryly, his voice hoarse. “I have bruises on my back from him shoving me, but nothing I can’t handle. I suppose it was too much to ask for our wedding day to be threat free.”

The Inquisitor coughed awkwardly. “I’ll take Abelas down to the cells. You can decide what you want to do with him later. If you want to retire from the party, no one would blame you.”

Dorian glanced at Solas who looked completely out of sorts. He had never looked so distressed over the entire course of their relationship and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. He knew returning to the celebrations would not solve anything, however.

“I think we will retire. Thank you, Herah,” he replied with a nod, standing with a wince. He offered a hand out to Solas who gladly took it, clasping onto it even after he was on his feet.

Adaar left with a smile and a promise that this intrusion would be answered for, taking the long way round to the cells to avoid dragging Abelas through the ball in the main hall. Now that would have been a scandal for the Orlesian Court.

“When did you learn Elvish?” Solas asked him once they were alone.

“I was learning for you,” Dorian chuckled. “It was meant to be a surprise. Well, I suppose it was, but these were not the circumstances I was expecting. I’m still not great at it, but a few phrases have stuck.”

“Your accent was atrocious,” Solas responded, sounding more like his usual self, “but I must admit I am grateful for the thought.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “I would bet five sovereigns that my Elvish accent is better than your Tevene one.”

“I must concede. I have not studied the language of Tevinter. Few spirits use such a language, and I have only come across a handful who were willing to speak with me.” 

“Perhaps I could teach you in return for some constructive criticism on my accent. At the very least, it would mean you could communicate with those spirits who are willing to talk to you,” he offered.

Solas nodded, before allowing his gaze to fall towards Dorian’s sleeves, his hands falling down as he moved to trace over the words. He seemed almost hypnotised by them, as if attempting to say the writing there in his head.

“These are Tevene?” 

He nodded. “ _Amore victum, laetus sum_ ,”  he lifted his left arm. “ _Superbia mihi pertinet et ego illi._ ” He lifted his right arm. “It means ‘having been conquered by love, I am happy. Pride belongs to me and I to him’.”

Solas smiled, his eyes looking up into Dorian’s own. “I fear that, while that message is very touching, it is not the most useful phrase to start with.”

“You better not be repeating that to anyone else. You’re a married man now,” he mockingly admonished him, batting him lightly on the arm as they began to make their way back to their quarters. It wasn’t a long walk from here, but they did have to take the less direct route in order to avoid meeting anyone who had wandered off from the celebrations. They didn’t want to be dragged back off, no matter how brilliant a ball Josephine had planned.

“There is only one other person I know who would even understand that phrase and I do not think Ser Aclassi would appreciate my saying so,” he pointed out.

Dorian shook his head in amusement. “Krem would probably howl at the prospect. I don’t think I have anything to fear from him. Besides, I don’t think your his type. He does have quite poor taste.”

“And what of your own taste?” Solas spoke smoothly as they reached their chambers, locking the door behind them. A quick flick of the hand lit the candles in the room, filling the space with an intimate glow made only more personal by Solas’ bright blue eyes locking with his own. 

“My taste,” Dorian looped his arms around the other man’s waist, “is impeccable.”

He leaned down to kiss his husband, pulling him close as he nipped slightly at his lower lip. As a reward, Solas parting his lips slightly, gasping quietly as the other man’s tongue found its way into his mouth.His lover pressed back 

One of Dorian’s hand reached down to reach his ass, giving it a deliberate squeeze, whilst he other massaged one of his pointed ears gently, rubbing circles up and down the sensitive skin. The combination of these movements earned a loud moan from Solas, whose own hands were tangled in his lover’s hair.

“Husband,” Dorian mumbled against the other man’s lips as he pulled away slightly to speak. “In all my wildest dreams, I never thought I’d have one of those.”

“Well you ought to get used to it,” Solas responded in his low, smooth voice, “because I do not plan to go anyway anytime soon.”

Dorian hummed, caressing his pale face as he traced patterns in the lightly dotted freckles which were scattered across his skin. As he worked his way up his cheekbone, he was rewarded with a shiver of pleasure. 

“I suppose that is a good thing,” he eventually murmured, “since I plan to keep you occupied for a long time.”

A sharp inhalation escaped Solas whose eyes instinctively fluttered closed. “Then what are you waiting for?” 

“Don’t be impatient,” a soft kiss was administered to the top of his cheekbone, his tongue licking at the cluster of freckles gathered there. “We do have the rest of our lives after all. I’m planning on making the most of that commitment,  _ husband _ .”

“We have the rest of our lives to be patient,” he gasped, tugging at his hair, which was tangled rather nicely between his fingers.

“Hmm I suppose we do,” Dorian grinned, wasting no more time in fulfilling his conjugal duties. After all, he reasoned, they were duties and he couldn’t be seen to be slacking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story :) Feel free to share any feedback
> 
> Elvish Translations:
> 
> Dirthera lath var. Ma vhenan na mala vhenan. Sulahn'nehn ma na mala Sulahn'nehn. Ma Sulevin na las la Glandival. Ir mala Vhenas. : They will tell tales of our love. My heart is your heart. My joy is your joy. My purpose is to believe in you. I am your home.
> 
> Mana. Mala halani, Solas : Help me, Solas.


End file.
